


Dust and Gold

by Kellygirl



Category: Hannibal - Fandom
Genre: M/M, OC’s but not really, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 18:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17249267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellygirl/pseuds/Kellygirl
Summary: They meet again and again.





	Dust and Gold

Dust and Gold

MY SHADOW’S OVER YOU

Will watched the blood seep from underneath the body of his Master, well, his former Master. He could hear the sounds of fighting elsewhere in the palace, and he should have been in a panic. Slaves rarely fared well during a battle, or after, especially if their owner did not win.

 

But Will was calm. His attention was focused solely on the Warlord in front of him. For five years, Will had seen this man in various dreams, but this was the first time he'd seen him while awake. Smoke and blood and screams always surrounded this man.

The Warlord had killed his Master and was, by Warrior law, now his Master. His new Master was breathing hard, his legs and chest splattered with blood. He had a mix of light blonde and gray hair, a rugged face with a mustache and a clipped beard that made him look elegant and unlike what Will thought a barbarian would look like. 

But Will had seen many so called "barbarians" in his lifetime and no matter how they looked, what they did, was what mattered to him.

The sound of a sword being drawn next to him brought him out of his thoughts. His bodyguard and friend moved to stand in front of him, ready to face the warrior that had just killed the man that owned them both. 

Will put his hand on Memna's arm and when he got his attention, Will shook his head. "Put your sword down. I would not see you die today."

Memna sighed and did as Will asked. Another gesture had him kneeling next to Will who was still standing. Will put his hand on Memna's head and studied the warrior that had just ended his Master's life. 

The man in turn, studied them both before walking closer, his head tilted a little as he studied Will. His hand was wrapped around the hilt of his sword, blood of his former Master still staining the weapon.

"Are you the Dreamer?"

Will closed his eyes and bowed before opening his eyes. "Yes. Please spare my life and that of my slave." 

The man's eyes followed to where Will's hand rested on Memna's head. His accent was sharp and Will concentrated on his words. "How can a slave own a slave?"

Will gave him a small smile as he explained. "Memna was a gift to me from my Master. He wished for me to have a bodyguard that would be mine and mine alone." Will stroked a hand through Memna's curly black hair. "If you so desire, Memna and I will pledge loyalty to you."

Something lit up in the warrior's eyes. Approval? Happiness? He was hard to read. The man gestured at Will's old owner. "You do not mourn your previous Master? Do you not want revenge for his death?"

Will pushed his hood off of his head. "I am a slave. One that has a highly desired skill, but still a slave. Master Jorga has owned me for many years but I have had other Masters. I know the life of a slave is fraught with change. I accept that and accept the fact that my ownership can change at any time."

The man nodded,his eyes roaming over Will's face as if hungry for the sight of him. "It is good that you can accept change." The man gave Will a short bow before continuing.

"I am Hannibal Lectyr, leader of my People. I claim you and any remaining slaves in my Clan's name." He moved closer and Will shivered at the look in the man's eyes. Perhaps the earlier happiness and approval Will had thought he'd seen was something else. Something that made Will's breath catch and his stomach quiver.

"While there were many reasons we made war upon King Jorga, you were the main one." Hannibal circled Will, his eyes sweeping over the two men. Will did not turn with his new Master. He waited on the question that trembled on the edge of Hannibal's tongue. "Did you know we would come and defeat King Jorga?"

Will smiled softly as Hannibal made a full circle around him until he stood back in front of him. The noise of fighting had grown less. "No. I knew there was conflict coming soon, and I told my Master this but my dreams and visions do not work as most seem to think." He didn't mention seeing Hannibal in his dreams. He needed to keep that to himself. He'd never had a recurring vision and wanted time to think about what this meant.

Hannibal nodded and reached out a hand to caress Will's face. Will felt calloused fingertips brushing against his jaw as Memna stiffened next to him. Will carded his hand through his bodyguard's hair in silent assurance that everything was okay. Will allowed the touch but made sure he met Hannibal's reddish brown eyes with a direct gaze of his own.

"You should also know that my dreams and visions will dry up and fly away like sand upon the wind if my body is not pure."

Hannibal smirked and his eyes brightened as if he was trying not to laugh. "Interesting. So you have never known the touch of a woman?" Fingers touched his hair before Hannibal stepped back. "Or a man?"

Will felt his face grow hot as he shook his head. He was used to those in King Jorga's household knowing this, but Hannibal looked at him as if he didn't care about the one rule that kept him from the forced use of his body.

Hannibal gestured at a doorway. "Show me your rooms." 

Off of the look on Will's face, Hannibal continued. "You should pick what you want to take with you. I will not force you." His eyes suddenly swept over Memna. 

"Stand up." 

Will took his hand off Memna's head as his bodyguard stood. Hannibal studied him before speaking. "Will you serve me as you served your King? Will you protect the Seer with your life?"

Memna went unbidden to his knees again. "Yes, Master. I will fight with the last blood in my body for the Seer."

Hannibal leaned forward and squeezed Memna's shoulder. "Good."

On the way to Will's rooms they met a Commander. He wore a light brown leather vest and pants similar to Hannibal's. He also wore a mask that made his face look like that of a skull. For all Will knew, it really was someone's skull. The man removed his mask and reported.

"The palace is ours, Sire. I sent a group out to make sure there are no forces hidden anywhere, ready to attack. Ruer reported from the city. They should have full control by nightfall."

Hannibal nodded and dismissed the man. As they continued walking, Will clasped his hands together. "I hope your commanders and soldiers hold your views on forcing anyone."

Hannibal glanced at him before continuing to observe the hallways and brief glimpses of the rooms they traveled past. "They do. They will spend coin in the correct houses for any pleasure they seek, but there will be no civilian assaults." 

He eyed Will and Memna. "Or any on slaves. Slaves will be gathered to be sold but I will place someone in charge here before we leave. They and the forces I leave behind will ease everyone through this confusing time as leadership changes." He smiled and winked at Will. "I have done this many times. My men are well trained and well disciplined."

Will nodded, relieved. He'd come to care for some of the people here in the palace and in the town. King Jorga never minded that he sometimes went into town and used his gift to help others. He was always paid with trinkets or food.

"How old are you?"

Will shrugged. "I am not sure. I was taken when I was very young. I think I was three summers or four. I remember a woman with brown hair and blue eyes. I remember being cold and playing in a place with many trees." He entered his room and gathered two leather satchels. "Then there was a boat and fire and screams."

Hannibal leaned against his doorway while Will directed Memna to pack his own belongings as well.

Will continued to pack while Hannibal studied his rooms. Will would miss his bathing room and his soft bed. He'd been here for eight summers, the longest he'd been owned by one Master. He hauled his bags up, one strapped over his back and another in his arms.

Hannibal studied him. "You pack quickly. I had anticipated an argument or two over what you could or could not take."

Will smiled a real smile and laughed. "I have taken a few trips in my time here, Master."

Hannibal stilled as Will called him Master. Will looked down at the floor. "I should not have been so presumptuous. Is there something else you want me to call you?"

Hannibal stepped out of the room. His voice was quiet and full of something else. "Master is fine."

Will saw a few servants as they made their way out of the castle. 

 

All of them seemed relieved that he was alive. He hoped the small smiles he gave reassured them in some way.

Outside, Lectyr’s soldiers roamed around. When they saw Hannibal they nodded but kept doing whatever tasks they had been given. Will cleared his throat. "I have my own horse if that will make traveling easier."

Hannibal clasped his hands behind his back and shrugged. "It is of no consequence what horse you ride. Yours is fine. Where are the stables?"

Once in the stables, Hannibal nodded in approval at how clean and well kept all the animals were. Will rubbed the nose of his palfrey, Winny. He was a good horse that Will had been given when he'd first arrived.

Once Will had his horse and Memna his camel, the ride to Hannibal's tent didn't take long. He'd asked Hannibal why didn't he just stay in the palace he'd just taken over and Hannibal told him there were always problems after a big battle and his tent was safer.

 

The tent was large but the outside had no markings showing it belonged to the leader. Inside, the tent was filled with soft flooring and pillows strewn about. There were wooden trunks around the room and a sumptuous looking pallet that must have belonged to Hannibal.

Hannibal pointed to a small corner blocked by a trio of trunks. "Put your things there. Stay in here and someone will bring you food and drink." He left and Will gathered some blankets while Memna looked around. 

A young girl entered with a tray. She carried water and bread,along with some dates and honey. Will ate his fill and made sure Memna did the same.

The next few hours dragged as Will tried to think about what finally meeting Hannibal meant. Should he have met him shortly after his first vision? Were the following dreams featuring him all close calls? Or just a warning that he was coming? Another servant, a young boy, entered and brought out lamps that were quickly lit. 

When Will requested some water, the boy scurried out and returned with more water and a basin. His voice was quiet and respectful. "I wasn't sure if you wanted more because you were thirsty or wanted to wash. I brought the basin in case you wanted to wash." He bowed and disappeared after Will thanked him.

An hour later,or so Will estimated, another servant entered with fragrant steaming pots. Hannibal followed and helped arrange the dishes. Will moved closer as the dinner was spread out. Roast chicken, steamed rice and more bread. 

Will stiffened as Hannibal spoke.

"Memna, you will go and eat with my servants. They will provide anything you need for the night."

Memna nodded and after a quick look at Will left the tent.

Will picked at the small damp cloth he'd used to wipe his hands. Despite what Hannibal had said earlier, actions were louder than words.

"I would like to tell you a story about where I come from."

Will blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Okay."

Hannibal poured them both another cup of wine. "It is a beautiful place. Full of tall old trees and grass covered hills and mountains. Water so chilled it can make a grown man cry. Sometimes it gets so cold, we get snow. When I was eleven the child of our most cherished ally disappeared, along with his mother and three servants. There were searches and rewards offered, but they were never found." 

Hannibal paused and offered Will some rice.

"Six months after they disappeared, I had a dream. While my family are not Seers, some of us have had dreams that more often than not, come true, so I knew to pay attention. In this dream the wife and Seer of the Grahme Clan told me the child that disappeared was my mate, my other half. She said she and her servants were already gone into the veil but that my Seer was still alive. When I begged her to tell me how to find him, she said I must train hard and then when I was ready, I would travel south and find him after many battles."

Will tore small pieces off his chicken, entranced with the story.

“I told my father this, and the next day, I began my training to become a warrior. One that could conquer and not just defend. Desire to find my mate became all to me. Anything that could help me,I learned. Four years after my dream, I left home, determined to find that which belonged to me." 

Hannibal paused and met Will's eyes. Will's heart beat faster and faster in his chest as if it was about to pound right out of his body. He wiped his fingers and took another sip of wine.

"Eighteen years later, after countless battles and following brief rumors that took too much time to verify and track down, my mission is complete." 

A thumb brushed over Will's lips. 

"You are the missing Seer of the Grahme Clan. My mate and my beloved. I have come to take you home."

Will shivered. He was numb with shock. He had been a slave for almost as long as he remembered, so to have this Warlord come and tell him this story and offer Will something he'd never voiced or hoped for in a very long time. It was beyond any dream he’d ever had.

He still remembered the beating from his first Master after he had cried and cried for his mother and his home. After that he'd pushed all memories of his former life away.

Will turned his head and leaned away from the warmth of Hannibal's body. "An interesting story, Master, but do you have any proof? I would not be here if I believed every story told to me."

Hannibal leaned back and took a sip of wine.

"You have a birthmark on your back. It is three wavy lines that travel from the middle of your back down to the small of your back.

Hannibal drew something in the sand. It resembled the stark lines that crawled down Will's back. He shivered. 

Hannibal smirked.

"If you would like to remove your shirt, I'm sure I'm right."

Will blushed and shook his head. "You are right. I do not need to remove any clothing."

A hand grazed Will's jaw and fingers traced his lips.

"I would like to take you home. The last message I received from there said your father is still alive. He remarried four years after you disappeared and you have two brothers and two sisters.”

Will swallowed and tried to calm the rhythm of his wildly beating heart.. Hope was a dangerous thing. To see his father again, to see the home he barely remembered was something he tried to never think about.

Hannibal watched him, waiting for an answer. Will nodded, his entire body shaky. “I would like that.” He took a deep breath. “I have dreamed of you. If it seems like I am just going along with you so calmly it is because I have dreamed of you. For five years I have dreamed of your fierceness, your dedication to a goal I could not decipher.”

He rubbed a thumb over Hannibal’s calloused fingers. “It is good that I finally have an answer to my dreams.”

That night Hannibal slept behind Will, curled around his body in protection and warmth. Will did not dream.

 

A week into their travels Hannibal declared to his men that Will was free and nobody’s slave. After that, Will freed Memna, who asked to stay on as his personal guard. 

They finally made it home after five months and Will was in awe everywhere he looked. Thick tall trees, the air cold and crisp in his chest as he inhaled. He knew this. His happiness overwhelmed him and he met his father with tears in both their eyes. Grahme the Elder looked like Will, a gray haired, lean man that held him tight.

Six months after he made it home, he and Hannibal pledged themselves to each other in front of their friends and family.

The celebration went on for two days and at the end of it, Hannibal makes Will his in the only way left. Physically and intimately they come together again and again in their new home. The Dreamer had found his Warrior and he will never let him go.

It will be some time until Will tells Hannibal of his new recurring dream. They will die together, but find each other again and again. Their souls are intertwined so strongly that nothing can keep them apart. They have lifetimes ahead of them, every one of them fierce and noble and strange.

 

SOME LEGENDS ARE TOLD

 

Hanibal was bored. He'd taken over these lands after a year long siege and he was realizing he liked talking strategy and the fighting needed to take a throne better than actually having the throne. He already had another target in mind. 

He only needed to select one of his talented Generals and give them a promotion and make them a Guardian, then he could leave and go conquer more lands and castles. 

For over ten years he’d been searching for something, but he didn't know what and that bothered him, made something itch right underneath his skin. It made him restless and ready to move on.

Right now he had to just sit and accept the gifts from various villages. This was the second day and while he liked the gold and jewels and rare spices, he could only take so much.

The next village Elder walked in looking like most village elders; grayed, wild hair,untidy beard, with an air of arrogance that came from being the smartest or most devious of their peers. 

He held a chain in his hand and at the end of the chain there was a man, an iron collar around his neck that gleamed in the sunlight that seeped into the castle throne room from highly placed narrow windows. Hanibal quirked an eyebrow and caught the interested expression on some of his Commanders' faces. 

The Elder stopped at the foot of the steps that led to Hanibal's throne. He bowed and pulled at the chain until the man grimaced and bowed as well. The man was dark haired, and wore a simple brown cloak almost like a religious man. When he raised his head, his eyes were blue like an approaching storm. He showed no fear of the Warlord in front of him and Hanibal felt a stir of interest deep in his belly.

The Elder spoke, his voice strong and deep.

"King Lector, I offer tribute to you in the form of the last son of the Grahm family!"

Whispers rolled through the hall. The Grahm family had faded from truth into legend over a hundred years ago. They were all thought to be dead. The rumors of visions, madness, and mayhem followed the family whether or not they had the 'gift' or, as some believed, the 'curse'. 

For the past five hundred years the women had been married into powerful families. The resulting children more often than not, having no gift of prophecy. Or so the families said. But when those same Families became wealthy and powerful, well, there had to be some reason. Grahm’s made or broke treaties, started or ended wars, and were prone to kidnappings and disappearances. 

The men went mad early and were sometimes killed for the rants and secrets they revealed about the people around them. They'd brought down Kings and Dukes and even a rumored Emperor across the sea.

To even have a Grahm as part of your family made you revered and feared in equal amounts.

Hanibal rose and walked down the three steps that separated him from the two men in front of him. He clasped his hands behind his back as he studied the man; collared, head barely bowed, but unafraid. Hannibal saw that his hands were tied together and wondered what he'd done or said to make the Elder treat him so.

"That is quite the claim. How do you propose to prove this?"

The Elder turned and used a hand to push the man's chin upwards. Furious eyes met Hanibal’s and the Warlord was more than intrigued. The Elder spoke.

"Tell him, Liam Grahm."

Liam bared his teeth and gritted out. "Go to hell, Marion."

The Elder, Marion, pulled at the chain. Hannibal noticed there were little spiked points inside the collar and some were now piercing Liam’s neck. Minuscule red dots appeared as if reluctant to leave the body. The smell of blood perfumed the air. The Elder hissed.

"I know the pain does not compel you, but remember your friends and what will happen to them."

Liam stopped struggling and looked into Hanibal’s eyes. His voice was steady and calm.

"You used to eat the hearts of your enemies because you thought it made you stronger. After you won so many battles you knew they were no longer worthy of you, that they did not deserve to grace your plate."

The hall was silent. Hanibal stepped closer. He bared his own teeth at this suspected madman. Then he laughed.

"That is not common knowledge but neither is it some great secret. I have many men with me who know this and have no doubt told others."

Hanibal narrowed his eyes at the Elder. "Give me proof or I will kill you both right now."

The Elder gabbled and moved closer, spit flying from his mouth. He poked at Liam and then turned to demand something from Hanibal. Whatever he was about to say was cut short as Liam lifted his tied hands over the Marion's head and dropped the rope that bound them around the man’s throat. He pulled the rope taut and began to strangle the man.

Hanibal didn't move as Liam used one foot to prevent the Elder from pulling the chain that controlled his spiked collar. His hands pulled the rope tighter as the other man struggled. The rumored psychic met Hanibal's eyes and did not look away as the Elder fell dead at their feet. 

Once he was dead, Liam released him, took three steps back and shrugged out of the top part of his robe. He turned and there right along his spine starting below his neck were three black wavy lines; the unmistakable birthmark of the Grahm family. The lines spilled down his spine until they disappeared at his waist. The whispers around them grew louder. 

Hanibal trailed one finger down the lines and felt himself harden as Liam shivered. Then it was over as Liam pulled the robe back up and turned around. With his hands still tied he bent down and pulled the chain out of the dead man's hand and offered it to Hanibal. His voice was deep and respectful.

"I am yours."

Hannibal took the chain and pulled out his knife. He cut the rope that rubbed across Liam’s wrists and tucked the weapon back into his shirt. He studied the chains and the collar.

"Is there a key to the lock?"

Liam used his foot to poke at the dead man at their feet. The courtiers and his men were all silent and it was as if he and Liam were the only ones in the room. Hannibal found the key and unlocked the chains and collar. Liam rolled his neck and sighed as his bones cracked and popped. 

Hanibal gestured at someone and pointed at the body. Everyone watched as it was dragged out of the room. Hannibal studied Liam while Liam kept his eyes on his new Master.

"Why kill him?"

Liam shrugged. "He fulfilled his life's work in getting me here. He would have been a burden to his village if he'd returned."

Hanibal nodded. "What about the friends he spoke of? Will they be hurt when he does not return?"

Liam frowned and looked thoughtful before he replied. "They will be fine. One of them will lead the village soon and everyone there will be better off for it."

Then he smiled and Hannibal could only hold back the desire in his eyes so much as the man's gaze held the same glint of 'something' he often saw peeking out from his own eyes.

Liam smirked. "Besides that chain and collar angered me more than I anticipated."

Hanibal wanted to call off any more tribute offerings so he could spend time with his new possession. He opened his mouth to tell the servants to close down the offerings for the day when Liam leaned in closer and whispered. 

"The next Chieftain is going to offer you sapphires and emeralds. They will be real, but the spices he will also offer are made of a slow burning poison that will kill all your Generals and turn you mad." 

Liam paused and looked him up and down. "Well, even more mad."

Hanibal raised one eyebrow and gestured to the step that led to the throne he had been sitting on earlier. "Please, have a seat."

A short time later the Chieftain who'd thought himself so clever was dragged out, his spices spilling from his mouth. Hanibal offered Liam a sapphire the size of a robin's egg as a thank you. 

Later that night he offered Liam a lot more as Liam knelt and lapped at Hanibal's cock, his tongue slick and his mouth warm. When Hanibal got Liam in bed, his new seer squirmed and panted while Hanibal slid into his tight body. He studied Liam and without any words he knew he was Liam's first. 

Liam grinned at him, a baring of his teeth that amused Hanibal as much as it turned him on. He answered the question Hanibal didn't have to ask out loud.

"First and only and you will be mine as I am yours.” He raised up and bit Hanibal’s ear. The pain made the warlord gasp and move faster. 

Liam whispered, Hanibal’s blood coating his lips, “And when you marry to continue your legacy, I will pick the woman."

Hanibal groaned and shoved hard. Liam only laughed and tightened his thighs around Hanibal's waist.

 

In the next twelve years Hanibal and Liam become legends. Hanibal overtakes King after King while Liam whispers truths and secrets that help him conquer and keep his holdings. 

Hanibal is known and feared as an unbeatable Warlord and King, but the rumors of Liam being the actual power behind the throne are true. He thanks Liam by giving him anything he wants. He is humbled and amazed that Liam seems to only want him. The argue and fuck and make up and then do it all over again. Hanibal is utterly devoted.

Hanibal married a woman that was biddleable but not a complete pushover. She gave him five boys and two girls. No one mentioned in his presence that three of his children resembled Liam more than him. 

When ten minor Kings join forces and overrun Hanibal's army, he and Liam fight and die together. Their children and the Queen were never found. Rumors of their family being whisked off to a far away land by a pirate that owed her life to Liam, were never proven. Anyone who tried to track them down never return.

 

THE WOLVES WILL CHASE YOU IN THE PALE MOONLIGHT 

Will does not recognize Hannibal. His mind was otherwise occupied trying to kill him. Mystics, psychics, and dreamers with the truth on their tongue had no place in his world. He liked facts and evidence and proof. No matter that his 'gift' gave him the look of something magical and strange.

Hannibal was his friend and he trusted him completely, so it was with great confusion and rage and yes, bone deep hurt, that he came to the realization that Hannibal had framed him and put him in jail. 

The other realization, that he loved Hannibal doesn't come until a few months later while he lay in a hospital bed. The knowledge that Abigail was dead hurt more than the burning pain etched into his body by a man he'd grown to care for so utterly and completely. 

During his convalescence Will dreamed that he was someone else, that Hannibal was someone else. All the dreams have certain things in common. He and Hannibal are always together, slavish devotion to one another against any and all that surround them. 

In these dreams when they die, it was always the two of them together and it was always painful and drenched in blood. The dreams were so vivid that he asked the doctors to check if his encephalitis had come back.

In between healing and tracking down the ancestral home of the Lecters, his dreams continue and they gradually became crystal clear. When he found books detailing the history of the Family Lecter, he wasn't shocked to recognize some of the stories. He contemplated the knowledge that he and Hannibal would always find one another with a quiet knowing that felt so right, and something clicked into place so deep inside him, perhaps even in his soul, if he believed in things like that.

Everything had led him to this man. The Universe, God, Fate, whatever you call it. Will knew that he and Hannibal revolved around each other, whether in opposition or together, tied and entwined with blood and pain and darkness. 

Part of him felt relief that he wasn't alone, while another part laughed at him, maniacal and cruel. You will never be rid of him. He was your greatest enemy and your greatest love.

He wanted to give in and just become Gramm or Liam or any or the others that he now remembered, his core characteristic always a part of him while Hannibal's had changed and grown different over the reincarnations that they have both endured.

Or had Hannibal grown that different? They’ve changed each other just as the others had changed each other once they’d met.

After he made his design in the ruins of Hannibal’s historical home he left, new knowledge and history flowing around him like ice water in a winter stream. 

In Italy it played out the only way it could. Complete, utter joy at seeing Hannibal again, of basking in his company. It was glorious and bloody and better than he imagined, even with him getting shot and Hannibal's attempt to cut his skull open. 

At Muskrat Farms, he was sure their time was up. He'd had so much to say but with blood on his face and trickling down his throat he knew by the proud look on Hannibal's face that they were finally, truly, on the same page. 

The happiness in his heart was unmatched to anything he'd known before. Is this how his other selves felt, when they found their Hannibal and their goals became the same? 

They never seemed to last for more than a decade once they find each other, but maybe, that too is part of their destiny. They burn, ache, and quiver for one another while they dance on the blade of a knife and at some point they have to fall.

Escape from a gruesome death was not something he’d anticipated. Waking in his own bed was never in his wildest wishes. His words to Hannibal in his house he hadn’t missed and the subsequent result of Hannibal giving himself up are shocking but predictable. 

The trial and the mad glitter of infamy surrounded Will and seemed to only tie them closer and closer until Will couldn't breathe or think. He was being smothered so he ran and tried to untangle himself from the strands that now choke him instead of comfort him. 

 

Will got three years. 

He loved Molly, he is certain of that. What they had was genuine and real. But Hannibal was there in his head and heart and although he'd learned to ignore the part that ached and wanted what he could no longer have, it was still there like poison in his blood.

He was...content and sure in the knowledge that they will get another chance in another lifetime. He was okay with that and he could wait. Then Jack sent for him. When he saw Hannibal again, Will knew they were on path that would lead to destruction and death and he cannot bring himself to care. He and Hannibal were once again in orbit around each other and all others paled or faded away. 

Part of him hated himself for what this will do to Molly but another part, stronger and tired of Will lying to himself, coiled itself around his heart and doesn't let go.

The fight with Dolarhyde ended up being the thing that made Will want more time, more everything with Hannibal. They kill him like two wolves bringing down a bear. The blood was hot and slick. Will can taste nothing but it and it was like nectar. 

The cliff and moonlight, and his head on Hannibal's chest, finally at peace with them, with himself, and the history that lay behind them for hundreds of years and the surety that they had a destiny that lay in front of them for a hundred more.

They survived the fall. Of course they did, they were together and whole and there was no one, not even Will, that can get rid of them so easily. They talked as they recover and Will found out that Hannibal knew a little of the history of his family, but had never entertained the possibility that he and Will were the stories and legends that were written about in his family history.

Hannibal managed to get Chiyoh to send the book to them in Brazil. They read it separately and together. At night they touch and kiss and talk about the others that came before them. Will shivered as Hannibal used his tongue to trace imaginary lines up and down his back.

Will still didn’t believe in visions and fortune telling but there were more things in heaven and earth. He laughed at the look on Hannibal’s face that that quote got him.

Will would like to think they will be able to grow old and die together or as close as they could, but he knew they wouldn’t. Peaceful and old had never been in their fates. Whatever happened to end them will be bloody and painful and fuck it; he thought as he flipped Hannibal over and licked his own trail over Hannibal’s shoulders, it would be worth it.

 

YOU WILL REMEMBER ME

 

William Gray received the message after his daily meeting. His guards had captured a spy. It was the year 2082 and He ran a walled city that housed over three hundred people. He didn’t particularly want to be in charge but it was the only way to ensure the continued survival of people that depended on him. He’d grown up with plagues, famine, and vicious people who took from those they thought weaker.

They'd fought and scraped for the land they had. After they planted crops it became very attractive and they had to be brutal to any potential invaders. Spies were usually killed. 

His second in command explained that this one was different. "He walked up to one of the guards and asked to see you. Said he knew you. When Robert asked if he was a spy, the man said he was if that got him a meeting with you."

William frowned. He had a full day, but he told the guards to bring the man into the meeting room. A few minutes later, a man in a green robe was escorted into William's presence. At the first glance of his face, William felt a jolt in his chest. 

The man did look familiar but William had no clue where he would have met him. His life had been full of scrabbling to survive and fighting to keep what he got. William gestured for him to speak. The guards were in the room but remained silent as the man spun his tale. It was a very interesting tale.

“My name is Hanibal and I have dreamed of you all my life. Before you think me mad, I offer you a gift. Two days from now the Raven clan will try and kill you at the peace meeting you have arranged. They will bring more people and will overwhelm you at the last moment. Everyone in your party will die.”

William raised one eyebrow and got a small smirk in return. Against all reason he liked this man. He and his people worked hard to eat and keep warm in the winter and people who could spin a good tale were tolerated more than any other type of guest.

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because I know that the dream I have had all my life is the same you have had all of yours.”

Hanibal opened his robe and let it fall to his waist and turned so Will could see his back. Starting below his neck there were three black wavy lines that trailed down to his waist.

Will swallowed and resisted the urge to touch his own neck.

 

He had lines on his back and dreams in his head that this man claimed to know and understand. That was a rare thing for William Gray and he suddenly craved this more than he’d craved anything for a very long time.

He leaned forward and beckoned the man closer.

“Tell me more.”

End

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Fall Out Boy
> 
> I’ve had this done for about two months but life and illness got in the way.
> 
> Still on tumblr under the-geek-cornucopia and on Dreamwidth under Kelly_girl.


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